


We Will Go Together

by InfiniteJediLove



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 1999 challenge (20th anniversary), Force Bonds, Hurt Obi-Wan, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi, M/M, Party Like It's 1999, Post-The Phantom Menace, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, also sex, beautiful and meaningful moments between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, hurt Qui-Gon, qui-gon to the rescue, random planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteJediLove/pseuds/InfiniteJediLove
Summary: Qui-Gon is still recovering from his injuries ten months after the battle at Naboo. Unhappy with the Temple’s disregard of his connection with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon searches out his former apprentice in the hopes that, together, they can overcome what he cannot endure alone.





	We Will Go Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen/gifts).



> Here’s a fic I was very happy to write for the Party Like it’s 1999 Challenge to commemorate the 20th Anniversary of The Phantom Menace or when this qui/obi ship started sailing :). A billion thank yous to quiobi_lover (Helen) for hosting the celebration and giving me the inspiration to write this, I took a lot of different ideas and ran with it but I think this turned out well!
> 
> So…you’ve probably all noticed that this is my first ‘explicit’ fic on here. It’s not a pwp, but the sex scene is a bit more graphically detailed than my ‘mature’ rated fics. If you don’t really feel comfortable reading sexy stuff you can stop reading after the second *** and start again at the third ***, but know that you’ll be skipping at least half the fic (foreplay is a very long loving process in this fic) and some important plot points. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Comments are always welcome!

_And now you’re mine._  
_Rest with your dream in my dream._  
_Love and pain and work should all sleep now._  
_The night turns on its invisible wheels,_  
_and you are pure beside me as a sleeping ember._

_No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams._  
_You will go, we will go together,_  
_over the waters of time._  
_No one else will travel_  
_through the shadows with me. Only you,_  
_evergreen, ever sun, ever moon._

_– Pablo Neruda_

 

Pain woke Qui-Gon, the sensation robbing him of his breath so that he lie still gasping until the sharp sting dulled to an ache. The whir of the automatic sensors that he had yet to uninstall lit his personal quarters with soft blue light.

“Heartbeat is abnormally accelerated,” the flat voice of the monitoring machine spoke from the ceiling, “would you like to contact healers?”

Sighing, Qui-Gon used the Force to issue a silent negative. The blue light faded and he stared upward at the small unobtrusive machine attached to the ceiling. The monitoring unit had been there since his return to his quarters, sending alerts to the healers anytime he collapsed or experienced pain. He had accepted the invasion of privacy in order to regain some of his former independence but his rooms felt strange to him, as if he were living in the home of someone else.

Even through the Force, his lodgings seemed different, unfamiliarly cold and distant without the presence he had once sensed in the room next to his own. Reminders of the other Jedi had been taken away, leaving hollowness behind. There were gaps where shelves once were, bare patches on dusty surfaces where a few items had been kept.

Qui-Gon swallowed, his throat dry, his eyes itching slightly from the immersion in bacta he had undergone a few days earlier. Tiredly, he scrubbed a hand over his face, his cheekbones more prominent than they had been before, his knuckles catching the edge of his bearded jaw. For the first time in months he did not have any more health procedures scheduled for the following day. Still, he could not relax. He attempted the breathing exercises that he had learned as a child, reaching for the Force without effort. The encounter with the Sith on Naboo had not altered his strong connection to the Force, a matter he was deeply grateful for considering that his physical recovery had been very slow.

The battle on Theed had taken place nearly ten months ago. Naboo would be in its winter season now. The Gungans would have returned to their underwater city while civilians worked against the cold to rebuild the outer villages that had been decimated in the droid invasion. The war against the Trade Federation had been won even as he had lain dying, unknowing of what occurred outside of Theed Palace.

Seven of the last ten months he had been unconscious, held in a healing trance induced by the Temple’s healers. Somehow the Sith’s lightsaber had missed vital organs and the healers were able to keep his heart beating long enough to begin careful surgery on the wound. Despite their skill, Qui-Gon knew he would have died were it not for his Force bonds. He had felt the strength of the Force moving through him when in the trance, healing damage, revealing thoughts and emotions he scarcely knew he had. When he had awoken, it was alone and with few memories of the battle with the Sith Lord.

Much had happened during his long healing trance. The appearance of the Sith had caused a small but vocal faction of the Temple to call for more decisive steps to be taken by the Council. Apparently, a protest of sorts had already been underway when Qui-Gon had been sent back to Naboo as bait to draw out the Sith. Arguments had broken out within Council chambers and Jedi as young as newly selected padawans were debating the importance of the Code. Yoda had surprised everyone by deciding to train Anakin himself, as well as allowing the boy occasional visits to his mother. Old laws were being reexamined and, in some cases, overturned. The Jedi were no longer willing to turn a blind eye to the mass corruption within the Senate, particularly now that Valorum had been ousted and Bail Antilles from Alderaan had been declared the new chancellor.

At any other time, Qui-Gon would have been leading the movement for change within the Temple, pleased to finally have others as outspoken as him calling for reform. But he felt too disconnected from other Jedi, the pain within his body dull compared to the ache within his mind. His bond with Obi-Wan was gone. The Council had said little on the matter, despite his direct questions, but Qui-Gon had overheard the healers speak amongst themselves during the early days of his recovery. The bond had been closely examined during Qui-Gon’s healing trance and found to be unusually strong. The healers had severed it without his say on the matter and he knew intuitively, without consulting Obi-Wan.

The removal of the bond had been terrifying, some part of him feeling it even deep in his coma. When he had broken the trance, his first thoughts were of Obi-Wan. He had asked for his padawan over and over, needing to know that Obi-Wan still lived, that the destruction of their bond was not caused by death. In that first month awake, he’d been too injured to protest the numerous treatments he underwent, to have patience for the healers refusal to allow him to see Obi-Wan. He had even feared that his padawan was dead and that the healers were waiting for him to recover before telling him. For weeks, he had been unable to believe that they would have severed the bond otherwise.

He could not feel Obi-Wan’s mind, could not sense even the faintest thought from him. The last thing he remembered of the battle was Obi-Wan falling from a platform and his own despair and fury. Qui-Gon bit his lip hard, closing his eyes, trying to see beyond the memory, to glimpse any other images from the battle. There was nothing but the feral grin of the Sith Lord attacking them, and then Obi-Wan fell. He shuddered, short on breath once more.

Obi-Wan was still gone and Qui-Gon’s impatience to see the other man and his anger over the severed bond had made the Council refuse to speak to him until he let go of his disquiet. But Qui-Gon could not so easily cast aside his emotions on the matter. The dissolving of a padawan bond was not lightly taken. There were many Jedi who kept the bond their entire lives. Qui-Gon had been considered unusual for his lack of interest in maintaining any contact with Dooku. Now he was considered resentful for his dismay at losing Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan had been near the end of his training and the connection between them had deepened to an intrinsic level. Even when they shielded their thoughts from each other, they would have never dissolved the bond without discussing the matter. The healers seemed to think it was for the best and that any pain from the severing would be minimal. Qui-Gon did not know how to tell them of how terrible the emptiness was and how alone and powerless he felt. The pain in his torso from the Sith was nothing compared to this. This was a terrible cold suffering, his mind reaching far past endurance, searching for Obi-Wan. A shiver passed through Qui-Gon, eyes opening to stare blankly at the ceiling once more. There was even talk among the healers that the bond had been severed because it was inappropriate.

Qui-Gon sat up abruptly, ignoring how his body protested the sudden movement. He frowned in the dark, head bent, his long hair tangled and graying as it spilled down his back. Not once during his recovery had the Council allowed him to contact Obi-Wan, or even told him anything about the mission they had sent Obi-Wan on. A knight’s first mission was usually over quickly, as it was often a routine assignment to ease a new Jedi into being on their own. Obi-Wan had been gone for ten months, without a word.

Even with the upheaval in the Temple, Qui-Gon could not shake the feeling that the Council were punishing Obi-Wan and him. What he had felt for Obi-Wan the last two years was subtle, impossible for him to put into words. He had never spoken of it or meditated on the emotions but the healers must have sensed it when they’d placed him in the trance. They would have seen the bond and known the things that Qui-Gon had shielded; boundaries and privacy would not have mattered to the healers in those early days of trying to keep him alive. They had torn aside his shields and seen all of Qui-Gon’s secret longing, his loyalty to Obi-Wan, and a love that far surpassed friendship. Yet, they must also have known that Qui-Gon would never have acknowledged what he felt aloud. Obi-Wan was his friend before he was anything else, and although some part of him had thought perhaps that his feelings were returned, without the bond he had no way of knowing.

It was difficult to consider the matter, but it almost seemed as if the Council would have been more tolerant had he felt only desire and attraction as such emotions could be shielded and cast aside. Harder to ignore was this endless need to cherish Obi-Wan, to hold him in his arms, to protect him and be protected by him. Love of any type was forbidden, particularly romantic love. He knew that, just as he knew that the healers had seen and informed the Council of how Qui-Gon felt and the bond had been severed. Obi-Wan’s falling body flashed before his eyes once more and Qui-Gon dropped his head in his hands, breathing hard. The healers had given him his life back, but in the process had separated him from the one person he loved above all else.

“Subject has been awake for two-point-seven-three hours,” the mechanical voice from the monitoring device spoke into the dark, “would you like to contact healers?”

With a rough motion, Qui-Gon used the Force to shut the machine off. He stood, wincing at the pain in his still healing body but allowing his determination to fill him. He did not care if he was not well enough to travel, Obi-Wan had been gone for too long. He could not sit by and wait for the Council to grant him an audience. The severed ends of the bond stung within his mind and Qui-Gon reeled, reaching to the wall for support. If it were only himself, he could endure this, but if Obi-Wan was also hurting…he could not allow that. The bond between them may have been severed, but the love he felt for the other man could not be destroyed.

Qui-Gon steadied himself, his tall body trembling slightly as his mind seared with cold pain. He breathed slowly to calm his distress before making his way to the computer terminal in the main room of his quarters. Temple records were extremely easy to access when working from the inside and Qui-Gon was soon examining mission logs, sorting through data reports. He pushed aside numerous floating holoscreens, cycling through them until he glimpsed Obi-Wan’s name. He pulled the blue holoscreen to him, enlarging it, gazing at the information before him.

Obi-Wan’s last mission log had been several days ago. He’d given a brief report on his current assignment, but even in those few words Qui-Gon could tell Obi-Wan was angry with the Council. His heart ached as he saw the numerous requests in earlier logs to be allowed to contact Qui-Gon. The Council had refused every one and Obi-Wan’s writing had become extremely terse in response, the pleas of earlier now hidden under formal and chillingly polite reports.

Obi-Wan had always had a way with words when writing, and Qui-Gon felt a surge of pride to see how bold Obi-Wan had grown with the Council, openly defying them on several accounts and only briefly acknowledging it within his report. His mission was ending, Obi-Wan had said in his last report, he would be stopping over on Rehisha 4 to repair some earlier damages to his ship and would be returning to the Temple to see Qui-Gon. He did not ask permission to do so, seeming to declare it his right. Qui-Gon reached out, touching the floating holoscreen, longing to be closer, to see Obi-Wan in all the younger man’s justified anger and soothe the hurt that was so transparently there.

Rehisha 4 was close, too close for Obi-Wan to still be gone. A quick scan of the Temple made it clear that his former apprentice was not in residence though. Even with the Temple database at his disposal, Qui-Gon did not have the ability to scan the entire planet. Coruscant was too populated and there was too much travel to and from the planet. However, it didn’t make sense for Obi-Wan to hide when he was insisting he wished to see Qui-Gon. Something must have gone wrong on Rehisha 4.

On another floating holoscreen Qui-Gon pulled up a datafile on the small planet, mapping the travel routes there and the spaceports or repair stations that Obi-Wan would have chosen. He felt for a chair in the dark, realizing that his legs were shaking from being on them for so long. He sat heavily, not looking away from the information before him. If he left soon, before the morning hours, he could easily get a shuttle to Coruscant’s orbiting starbase. From there he could hire a civilian pilot to transport him to Rehisha 4, a faster procedure than public transport and harder to track if the Council discovered him missing. If Obi-Wan was still on Rehisha 4 he could at least speak to the other man, if Obi-Wan was already gone, Qui-Gon would have a place to begin his search.

* * *

Even with a fast pilot, Rehisha 4 was half a day away. Qui-Gon quelled his impatience and focused on meditating to reserve his strength. The arrangements for transportation had been more draining than he would have liked. He was not used to being on his feet for hours, nor concealing his lingering pain to the degree that he had to with the Iktotchi pilot. He shivered, unable to adjust to the cold of space travel when his mind was consumed with the broken bond. He longed for Obi-Wan with an intensity that shocked him, aching just to know that the other Jedi was safe.

Qui-Gon leaned his head back where he sat in the passenger seat of the small cockpit, eyes falling closed. He ignored the curious stare of the pilot, concentrating on the Force. His limbs were shaking, his strong frame thinner than it had been in years. He could trace the areas of healing all through him, focusing on the places that the healers had not quite finished mending. The pain in his upper abdomen was not as sharp as before, the internal injuries had been so well-treated that the lightsaber wound had left little more than a scar and tenderness. His back hurt from where the saber had pierced through but Qui-Gon accepted that as a reminder to appreciate the fact that he was still alive.

It was during the planet’s night cycle when they finally landed on Rehisha 4’s main spaceport. A few patches of duracrete spread out around a small building in a grassy open field. Only a dozen ships were present on the landing pads. Large orbs of light hovered above the port, shining on the dull metal exterior of the grounded ships. Far on the other end of the meadow, Qui-Gon saw a few dwellings lit by similar orbs, likely a supply town of sorts.

“A busy spaceport for Rehisha 4,” the pilot commented, their orange-red skin catching the bright outside lights. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow but could detect no sarcasm in their voice. Rehisha 4 was such a small, remote planet that he supposed the landing pads were abnormally full compared to most days. The pilot listened through their headset for a moment as they begin landing procedure. They shook their head, glancing in Qui-Gon’s direction, “looks like everyone’s needing repairs. Some sort of layover right now,” they clicked teeth together in a grin, “I’ll certainly find enough customers to pay for transport back.”

Landing took longer than Qui-Gon preferred, his muscles tense as the ship finally settled. He knew Obi-Wan well enough to know that this particular spaceport was the most probable option for Obi-Wan to choose. However, if he had guessed wrong he would be stranded on Rehisha 4 until another ship was repaired enough to travel to the planet’s few other spaceports. He paid the pilot who took his money with another grin, dipping their horned head in a somewhat mocking bow. Qui-Gon exited the transport, slipping through the small crowd already waiting at the base of the ship, everyone eager to inquire about passage off-planet.

The air was humid with the warmth of summer. A breeze stirred through the spaceport, carrying the scents of the open field. It was a welcome change compared to Coruscant and Qui-Gon paused for a moment, breathing in the difference, embracing his sudden freedom. He had not brought anything with him, not even a comlink. He had not wanted to give the Council any way to contact him.

It hardly seemed like night at first, the lights above the spaceport bright enough that Qui-Gon could see clearly as he walked, eyes searching for a familiar figure. Boxes of cargo surrounded some of the smaller shuttles where pilots discussed wares and fees. Civilians that were still awake were huddled in groups, talking about the layover. There was a surprising lack of agitation considering the delay, but Qui-Gon supposed it was exhaustion that was preventing uproar.

The small spaceport had a sleepy feel to it, the singing of night insects loud over the murmurs of pilots. The duracrete beneath Qui-Gon’s boots was old and crumbling, grass growing between cracks. The only building was a small rusted hanger bay, too tiny to house anything more than a few single flyers. Most of the ships present were on the outer landing pads, engineers checking damage and hosing down overheated engines. Qui-Gon could make out the shapes of the few town buildings at the edge of the open plain, silhouetted against the night sky. Qui-Gon exhaled heavily, looking around, feeling his lungs twinge at the exertion he was putting on his body. He would have to rest soon but not until he searched the area thoroughly for Obi-Wan.

He went to the hanger bay first, quickly verifying the ships as inexpensive civilian models. Obi-Wan would have been flying a high-quality craft suited to a Jedi: small, perhaps battered, but fast and easy to maneuver. One of the pilots had somehow managed to pull a passenger ship half into the hanger bay and was arguing with the spaceport’s owner about the makeshift parking. Outside, conversation drifted from passengers discussing the layover, to pilots and engineers speaking of repairs. Qui-Gon listened only halfway, moving around the larger vessels, the steam from cooling engines making it difficult to see far.

A loud clanging came from behind one of the cargo ships. Qui-Gon walked around the small freighter, the vapor clearing briefly enough for him to see another ship several meters away. Qui-Gon’s breath caught as he watched a slender man kneel down near the outer hatch of a single flyer. The engine panel had been pushed back, sparks emitting from the exposed engine as the man used a hydrospanner to unbolt the panel fully, deftly avoiding the sparking wires. The man was dressed in the casual faded clothes of the other pilots, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up as he worked. His hair was long, his face turned away, but Qui-Gon knew the quick skillful motion of the other man’s hands, the way a shoulder turned into the pressure as the man wrenched another bolt free.

He quickened his pace, ignoring the pain in his abdomen, trembling faintly as he drew closer. The man must have heard him above the noise of the engine, or perhaps some part of the bond was still tangible to Obi-Wan as his former apprentice stood and turned in one fluid movement, eyes wide.

Qui-Gon did not have time to look at Obi-Wan for already the younger man was stepping forward, grabbing his arm to steady him as Qui-Gon’s legs threatened to give out, his body pushed too far. The grip against his elbow was strong, Obi-Wan’s voice so welcome after such distance. Qui-Gon breathed tightly, eyes closed, turning his face into Obi-Wan’s soft hair as the other Jedi embraced him. He could not sense Obi-Wan, he could only feel the body in his arms, his large hands touching Obi-Wan’s back and shoulders, needing to reassure himself that the other man was alive.

They pulled away and Qui-Gon reached out, touching the ends of Obi-Wan’s hair, “your hair is longer.” Qui-Gon murmured. Obi-Wan’s hair had always grown very fast, requiring Qui-Gon to cut it often. But now it was loose, shoulder-length, and a lighter auburn than the rust-brown it was when short.

“So is yours,” Obi-Wan said softly. Qui-Gon lifted a shoulder in a small shrug, suddenly inordinately shy as he felt Obi-Wan’s fingers briefly comb through his graying hair, caressing with the same intensity to reestablish the closeness that they no longer had between their minds.

“The healers wanted to cut it,” he replied and Obi-Wan shook his head, tilting his clean-shaven jaw up to look Qui-Gon in the eye.

“I asked them not to,” Obi-Wan stated, his rich voice low, eyes shifting away from Qui-Gon’s now, “it was the only thing they listened to me about.”

Qui-Gon frowned. He could not excuse what the healers had done, not when he could see how much it had hurt Obi-Wan. The severed bond had left nothing but sorrow and pain within their minds. His hands tightened slightly on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, stroking over the slender back, feeling the warm skin beneath Obi-Wan’s civilian shirt. It was almost impossible to keep from touching the man now that he could see Obi-Wan but still couldn’t feel him in his mind. Obi-Wan’s normal reserve was gone as well, his hands wrapped around Qui-Gon’s forearms, his breathing unsteady.

“Can you feel me?” Obi-Wan asked suddenly, “In the Force?” he sounded desperate and hopeful, his greenish eyes large.

Qui-Gon touched the man’s face, thumb swirling over the smoothly shaven cheek, smelling the scent of engine oil and water on Obi-Wan’s skin. He had forgotten how beautiful Obi-Wan was to him or had never realized in this way. He swallowed, shaking his head. Obi-Wan bit his lower lip, eyes flashing with strong emotion that Qui-Gon wished he could sense. Obi-Wan had always been more solemn than he had. The bond had often been the only way he had truly known how Obi-Wan felt on a matter. Now they had no way of communicating except by words and actions.

Another clang came behind them, Obi-Wan glancing back at the engine, “I blew two calibrators,” he muttered, hand pushing his long hair back in a motion that Qui-Gon followed with his eyes, “the regulator fuse quit three weeks ago. I thought I could limp it back to Coruscant but I’ve been stuck here scrounging for parts for awhile.”

Strangely, the matter-of-fact mission details helped soothe the ache in Qui-Gon’s mind. As terrible as the ten months had been away from Obi-Wan, it was a comfort to know that his former padawan could still function. Yet, the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes spoke of pain, his hands reluctant to leave Qui-Gon for long.

“I thought you wouldn’t be able to travel,” Obi-Wan said, voice trembling with a hint of anxiety, “you were so hurt.”

“I had to find you,” Qui-Gon responded firmly even as his body swayed with exhaustion.

Obi-Wan guided him to a cargo crate, helping him sit. The smaller man’s long hair fell into his face. Qui-Gon brushed it back, fingers lingering along a cheekbone once more, aware that Obi-Wan was thinner than earlier. He knew his gaze was too tender, his touch too intimate but Obi-Wan leaned into the gesture, looking at Qui-Gon with such hope, green-blue eyes shining in the spaceport’s lights.

He expected Obi-Wan to return to his repairs but Obi-Wan settled next to him, their shoulders brushing. They did not speak, instead they watched the ships around them. Steam swirled up into the night air, pilots talking to one another. Most passengers had wandered away, likely to find lodgings for the night. The air was full of the singing of insects and the calls of a few birds that had not yet gone to roost.

Sometime later, Obi-Wan stood, offering Qui-Gon a shy smile that made the older man smile in response. Obi-Wan did not move in the direction of his ship, he did not even gather his tools. He held a hand out and Qui-Gon took it, enveloping the smaller fingers in his palm, breathless in more ways than one as he stood as well.

“Come with me,” Obi-Wan murmured and Qui-Gon followed him without hesitation.

The stars above them were larger, more intense than on polluted Coruscant. Obi-Wan was by his side, the soft breeze tugging at his longer hair. They held hands, unwilling to let go as they moved around other ships, ducking repair cables and skirting puddles of water from the engine hoses. Soon, the duracrete beneath their feet was gone, Obi-Wan leading him into the meadow around them, the lights from the town giving a almost liquid shine to the younger man’s eyes and pale skin.

They walked in silence, the field dark, Obi-Wan pausing when Qui-Gon did. The frustration that Qui-Gon normally felt with his healing body was absent, perhaps because Obi-Wan treated him so tenderly. The loss of the bond was an open wound, but the other Jedi’s presence soothed the pain. His hand was firm in Qui-Gon’s, his pace matching the older man’s. Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan in the dark. He could not mistake his emotions anymore. The loss of the bond had destroyed any desire to hide how he felt. Everything he had expressed, Obi-Wan had responded to. No matter how damaged the bond was between their minds, Obi-Wan was still there.

* * *

The town was even smaller than the spaceport. The only businesses seemed to be a few stores, a repair shop, and an inn. The streets were hand-paved with cut stone, the buildings likely hundreds of years old. Orbs of light glowed here as well, although not as plentiful as the spaceport. Qui-Gon felt distracted by Obi-Wan’s presence, as dazed as the early days of healing when he’d been more entangled in the Living Force than the reality of his surroundings. Everything around him seemed infused with the energy of the Force, everything but Obi-Wan. He longed for the bond, for the mental intimacy they had once had to be as easy as the physical touch he now craved.

Obi-Wan had a room at the inn, the area bare, almost bleak. They stood in the unlit room, the soft floating lights from outside shining in, the starry sky spreading out above the horizon as far as the eye could see. Obi-Wan stepped away from the window, gaze contemplative. The man looked so different with his hair long, his clothing no longer the tunics of a Jedi. He sat down on the edge of the small bed and Qui-Gon slowly followed suit, the few feet between them suddenly an impossible distance.

“I kept trying to get back to you and the Council told me over and over again that it would harm your healing if I saw you. The healers never told me you had awoken. I thought – I was afraid you never would,” Obi-Wan confessed, emotion suddenly raw in his voice, staring intently at Qui-Gon, “I sent you messages whenever I could find a safe holonet to access, but I suppose they blocked those as well.”

Qui-Gon reached out instinctively to soothe the other man’s pain, laying a hand over Obi-Wan’s, “They knew I was in love with you,” he whispered and did not feel ashamed to finally reveal what he had kept secret for the better part of two years. Obi-Wan turned his hand over, entwining their fingers once more, calluses rubbing together.

“And I with you,” his former padawan said quietly. They sat in silence, Qui-Gon accepting the words calmly, even as some part of him was stunned to discover that what the healers had seen in the bond had not been entirely his own emotions.

“It was never meant to be this way, between us,” Obi-Wan sighed, glancing over at Qui-Gon with an expression that was unfailingly serious and yet a slight smile was there as well, “Jedi aren’t supposed to fall in love. The fact that you were my master made things worse in their eyes.”

“I didn’t even know what I felt until you were gone.” Qui-Gon admitted, unable to look away from Obi-Wan as the younger man turned fully toward him, moving closer.

“Do you know now?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, his eyes large, bright with reflected light, their faces very close.

“Yes.” Qui-Gon breathed, reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s face, framing the man’s jaw. Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly at the touch before opening them, looking at Qui-Gon with that particular confidence he always had when things were at their most dangerous.

“Then kiss me,”

Qui-Gon smiled, his other hand tightening over Obi-Wan’s fingers. He leaned inward, closing the distance between them.

When their mouths met, he expected to feel surprise, even worry about breaking the Code in this way for the first time. He did not expect it to be as good as it was, for Obi-Wan to turn his head and deepen the kiss. A low hum of pleasure circulated through him and the emptiness between their minds seemed further away. Qui-Gon brought his other hand up, holding Obi-Wan’s face firmly as he kissed the man, pausing only briefly when Obi-Wan’s mouth opened to his own. A hand was in his hair, a soft near-silent sound escaping Obi-Wan as Qui-Gon grew bolder, exploring the wet mouth before him, his hands tilting Obi-Wan’s head back, their bodies moving close to one another.

Obi-Wan responded eagerly to each kiss, his hands pulling at Qui-Gon’s cloak, pushing it off the taller man’s shoulders without breaking the contact between them. The bed shifted a bit beneath their combined weight, Qui-Gon gasping as they parted, both breathing roughly. Obi-Wan moved back only enough to yank off his boots and Qui-Gon did the same, quickly stripping his cloak off and dropping it to the floor. The need to touch, to be touched was overwhelming and he caught Obi-Wan’s eyes, not surprised to see the same desire there.

Without their bond, he was aware of the purely physical element of the other Jedi’s agility and strength as Obi-Wan’s hands reached for Qui-Gon, pulling the older man down on the bed with him. Palms gripped Qui-Gon’s waist lightly, fingers pressing into the man’s sides. A slender leg wrapped around Qui-Gon’s, a facsimile of a hold practiced in hand combat, entirely different as the sole of one of Obi-Wan’s bare feet ran up the back of Qui-Gon’s calf.

The younger man had always been more limber than Qui-Gon during training exercises. His body structure, while average for most human males, could not equal Qui-Gon’s height or strength and so Obi-Wan had learned to use his flexibility and endurance to his advantage. Qui-Gon had been aware of Obi-Wan’s body before, but never here, like this, where there was no battlefield or training room, where Obi-Wan’s strength surrounded him and yielded to him.

Qui-Gon quelled his initial instinct to break the hold, enjoying Obi-Wan’s forthrightness. He bent his head, kissing Obi-Wan hard, feeling the other man arch slightly into the motion. They broke apart, Obi-Wan’s face was flushed, his breathing unsteady. Their bodies pressed close, each aware of the other’s arousal. Qui-Gon lowered his head, long hair falling around them like a curtain as he took Obi-Wan’s mouth once again, loving how Obi-Wan moved instinctively into his touch. Their legs entangled further, his hands running up Obi-Wan’s back, the dynamics shifting of the combat hold so that were they training he would have had the upper hand.

In truth, Qui-Gon had never even considered the sexual aspect of his love for Obi-Wan. He had wanted the man to know his entire mind, had longed for the bond they had once had to be a connection between their souls. But he had not been prepared to see Obi-Wan like this, to desire the man as he did. Neither of them had experience with lovers, yet there was no shyness between them. Obi-Wan was so handsome, each movement unwittingly erotic as his hands slid to Qui-Gon’s waist, fingers nimbly undoing the older man’s utility belt.

Qui-Gon kissed him, needing whatever the other man would give him and offering everything he was for Obi-Wan to take. He stopped only to draw in breath, his lungs stinging faintly at the lack of oxygen but for the first time in months he felt strong, alive. His utility belt came off, falling heavily to the wooden floor. Qui-Gon delved into the warm haven of Obi-Wan’s mouth, each kiss seeming to lesson the pain of the broken bond.

Qui-Gon’s torso tensed slightly in pain as it bumped against Obi-Wan’s. He broke away from the kiss, looking at the other Jedi. Obi-Wan’s lips were wet, slightly parted in breath, his civilian clothing rumpled. His long hair fell wildly around his face. With a small grimace, Obi-Wan reached up to push it out of his way and Qui-Gon stilled him. He slid the rolled edge of Obi-Wan’s sleeve back, exposing more of the man’s forearm, the lean muscle there compelling in the way every part of Obi-Wan was. He brought Obi-Wan’s wrist to his mouth, licking the inside softness there down to the elbow joint. His other hand went to Obi-Wan’s chest, fumbling one-handed at the buttons on the man’s civilian shirt.

Obi-Wan gasped, eyes large, his pupils dilated. Their hips rocked into one another, Qui-Gon closed his eyes at the harsh burst of pleasure it caused each time their pelvises met. He moved back slightly, his breath stuttering from him. He had unbuttoned only halfway down Obi-Wan’s shirt when the smaller man turned his head, kissing the edge of Qui-Gon’s mouth and the underside of the older man’s bearded jaw. Obi-Wan whispered soft nothings against Qui-Gon’s throat, drawing a shuddering gasp from the taller man who tilted his head, freely offering more of his neck to Obi-Wan. The younger Jedi pushed Qui-Gon’s hair back over the man’s shoulder, fingers sensually twining within the graying mane as he kissed and licked down to Qui-Gon’s collarbones.

Obi-Wan’s voice flooded his senses, his touch so needed that Qui-Gon could not stop touching the younger man in return, hearing Obi-Wan’s low sweet murmurs and hoping they would not end. His large palms trailed over the edges of Obi-Wan’s clothing and found where the man’s shirt had risen up, exposing a slice of skin along the back. He stroked the warm pale flesh, feeling Obi-Wan shiver against him. Obi-Wan lifted his head, looking up at him suddenly. His eyes were so beautiful in the starlight, his long hair disheveled. There was an expression to Obi-Wan’s face that Qui-Gon had never seen before, his features, so often serious, were relaxed, content. A very slight smile turned the corner of his mouth, his gaze tender and unknowingly seductive.

Qui-Gon rose up on one elbow, leaning over Obi-Wan, his hand on the man’s back still. Obi-Wan’s shirt had fallen completely open now, exposing his torso. The slight muscle he had in his arms and legs were not as apparent here, his body thin, his skin soft. Qui-Gon laid a palm over Obi-Wan’s side, feeling the ribs more clearly than he should. Freckles scattered loose like constellations along Obi-Wan’s shoulders, his collarbones, and very faintly across his stomach. Qui-Gon traced them with a finger, hearing Obi-Wan’s breathing become shaky, body tensing with anticipation.

Qui-Gon ran his hand up the man’s abdomen, brushing the sparse reddish patch of hair on the upper chest. He bent his head to kiss Obi-Wan, swallowing the man’s gasps. Their bodies rocked together, Obi-Wan moaning softly as Qui-Gon stroked down to the man’s hips once more. He didn’t have the Force connection between them anymore, but this was close to what it could be, the pain of the severed bond less now that Obi-Wan was in his arms.

Qui-Gon lifted his head, looking at the other Jedi. Obi-Wan nodded, hips arching up against Qui-Gon’s palms as the man gripped him lightly there. Quickly, Qui-Gon unfastened Obi-Wan’s trousers, pulling them and the man’s underwear down until all Obi-Wan wore was his open shirt. Obi-Wan swept his long hair back out of his eyes, his head against the pillow, that faint smile softening his normally serious expression. He was beautiful and unashamedly aroused.

Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan’s upper thigh, a question in his gaze. Obi-Wan parted his legs further in invitation and Qui-Gon leaned down to lick the edge of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan gasped loudly, pleasure audible in the startled noise and Qui-Gon closed his eyes, resting his mouth there. His palm flattened over Obi-Wan’s chest, thumb reaching to stroke a nipple that hardened against his touch. Another gasp came and that wordless murmur of enjoyment, almost a purr, echoed from Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon shifted back, kissing Obi-Wan’s sternum lightly, lips trailing further down the ribcage and the narrow curve of a hipbone. He heard Obi-Wan’s cry as if it were his own as his fingers stroked over light freckles on pale thighs, his mouth closing over the tip of the man’s shaft.

The sound of Obi-Wan’s pleasure reverberated inside him and he wished more than ever that he could feel the other man in the Force. Qui-Gon flattened his tongue against the underside of the man’s penis, unsure how exactly to please, but quick to adjust to the motions of Obi-Wan’s lifting hips. Fingers wound tightly in his long hair, Obi-Wan careful not to tug too hard on the older man’s scalp, even as his body slipped into an instinctive rhythm. Qui-Gon sucked gently at first, holding Obi-Wan’s hips steady, tongue swirling over the head.

The unfamiliarity of his actions would have made him hesitant, but Obi-Wan had only praise for him in soft heavy whispers, hands shaking as they touched Qui-Gon’s hair and broad shoulders, happiness so apparent in his voice that Qui-Gon did not need the Force to sense it. A slight tug on his shoulder had him lifting his head, breathless at the sight of Obi-Wan who was trembling and panting. Obi-Wan looked at him, light from outside shining off bright eyes, gleaming on skin pale from where sunlight rarely touched.

“I –“ Obi-Wan broke off, still out of breath. He shook his head, smiling, his eyes like stars in the dark room, “I want you inside of me.”

Qui-Gon inhaled, overcome with the man’s offer, the determination he so loved in Obi-Wan apparent in the other Jedi’s voice. He nodded, sitting up fully and reaching to undo the ties of his tunics. Obi-Wan sat as well, moving to help with the different layers, his fingers shaking. Obi-Wan’s shirt was almost completely off, the fabric fallen down his shoulders. Qui-Gon reached over and pulled it off entirely. Obi-Wan smiled, shaking his hair back from where it fell into his eyes, his naked body so beautiful that Qui-Gon captured the man’s face in his hands once more, kissing him deeply.

He pulled back as Obi-Wan suddenly stilled. The last knot of the ties keeping Qui-Gon’s tunics closed has come loose, revealing the scar along the man’s powerful torso, the months of healing not enough to hide where the skin was jagged, discolored and tender to the touch. Qui-Gon looked away, suddenly ashamed of carrying such a reminder of what had happened. The Sith’s blade had nearly killed him, it should have killed him if not for the bond between Obi-Wan and him that had kept him alive long enough to reach the healers. And then that too had been taken away.

Obi-Wan reached out, touching Qui-Gon’s body, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin of the healing wound. His head was bent, thick auburn hair shielding his face as he looked down. Qui-Gon bit his lip, as they sat silently, still except for the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed. Finally Obi-Wan drew back, looking up at him. Any trepidation and shame that Qui-Gon had felt was gone as Obi-Wan watched him, the younger man’s gaze filled with such love.

It seemed Obi-Wan was about to speak when the ache in Qui-Gon’s mind tightened with cold. He gasped, the Force humming through him at the burst of sudden pain where the bond had been. It was over as quickly as it began, leaving them both shaking. Obi-Wan’s eyes closed briefly with pain and Qui-Gon inhaled sharply, devastated to see his former apprentice suffering. Wordlessly, he reached for Obi-Wan. He drew the man to him, engulfing Obi-Wan in an embrace.

He touched Obi-Wan in comfort this time, reassuring himself of the other’s realness, wanting so much to feel the man’s mind within his own. Obi-Wan’s face rested against his shoulder, his smaller body folding into Qui-Gon’s arms with the agile grace he’d always shown in training. He was perfect, safe, and warm against Qui-Gon and gradually the ache diminished, replaced with the need to touch more, to become impossibly closer, to offer with their bodies what they could not repair inside their minds.

Obi-Wan turned his head, mouth brushing Qui-Gon’s neck, licking over a light bruise the younger Jedi had left earlier. Qui-Gon sighed roughly, trailing a hand over Obi-Wan’s spine. Obi-Wan pulled back a little, kissing just below Qui-Gon’s collarbone, one palm lightly flattening over the saber wound, the gentleness of his touch contrasting with the firmness of his mouth as he bent his head further and licked at a hard nipple. Qui-Gon gasped, shocked at Obi-Wan’s newfound audacity and the pleasure of it all.

This was Obi-Wan in a way he knew, focused to the point of stubbornness, kind but unfailingly honest. And yet, the intensity of the younger man was different, his body claiming and offering passion, unafraid to express joy. Qui-Gon tugged him up, kissing Obi-Wan firmly, his lips drawing soft sounds from Obi-Wan. He pushed the other Jedi down to the bed, licking into the warm mouth, shivering as Obi-Wan moaned. Hands were fumbling at Qui-Gon’s hips and Qui-Gon leaned into the touch, letting Obi-Wan undress him completely.

He pulled back, they looked at one another, breathing hard. Qui-Gon knew he should be exhausted, his body was not used to the long walk through the spaceport and town or the physical closeness between Obi-Wan and him. He felt intensely alive instead, longing to bridge the emptiness between their minds. He wanted Obi-Wan, wanted to hold the man and make love with him not as a consolation for the broken bond, but as a desire separate from anything else.

“There’s some salve, in my bag.” Obi-Wan murmured breathlessly, gesturing toward the small travel kit he often took with him on missions. Qui-Gon sat back far enough for Obi-Wan to get up, confused, until he realized suddenly what Obi-Wan meant to use the salve for.

The younger man knelt to dig the standard vial out from his bag, the orbs of light outside highlighting the smooth skin along his back, freckles visible on his shoulderblades and far down his lower back. Qui-Gon sat up fully, watching Obi-Wan, studying how the light illuminated patches of the man’s body and left other parts in shadow. Obi-Wan turned, straightening to face him, unconcerned at his nudity. He smiled when their eyes met, that same small delighted smile that he’d given Qui-Gon earlier. His long hair hung into his face, brushing against his shoulders. The sight of it was still strange after Obi-Wan had had short hair for so long, but Qui-Gon found he quite liked how it looked on Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan came toward the bed, leaning to kiss Qui-Gon, one hand dropping the sealed vial on the bed as Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan by the waist, pulling the man easily back unto the bed with him. His tongue stroked over Obi-Wan’s, swallowing the younger man’s gasps as he laid Obi-Wan back against the sheets, pulling away only when they were too breathless to kiss any longer. He ran large hands over Obi-Wan’s thighs, parting them. Obi-Wan lifted his hips, feeling blindly for the vial of salve before pressing it eagerly into Qui-Gon’s hands.

Qui-Gon stroked a thumb along the soft skin of the inside of Obi-Wan’s thigh, feeling muscle twitch there. Obi-Wan murmured something, on the verge of a laugh with how happy he was. Qui-Gon turned his head, kissing the younger man’s cheek lightly, wishing that he could sense Obi-Wan’s joy. The ache of the bond hurt but he found he could ignore it, provided he was in contact with Obi-Wan. They held one another, Obi-Wan shifting into his touch, moaning as Qui-Gon kissed the man’s throat and upper chest.

Awkwardly, Qui-Gon uncapped the vial of salve, gathering some on his fingers. It was thicker than he assumed lubricant was supposed to be but grew wetter as it warmed at his touch. He pressed his mouth to Obi-Wan’s upper ribs, inhaling the clean scent of the man, feeling Obi-Wan’s body bend to the motion of his as he parted the man further and stroked gently over Obi-Wan’s entrance. Obi-Wan gasped, shivering, eyes closing in pleasure.

Qui-Gon moved carefully at first, aware that Obi-Wan was as unaccustomed with this as he was. His lips trailed up the man’s chest, pausing to kiss a taut nipple. At the noise Obi-Wan made, Qui-Gon laved the sensitive skin with his tongue. The smaller body beneath his trembled, melting into each touch. Qui-Gon let his mouth relax Obi-Wan further before he dared press a finger into the other Jedi. He stopped at the first knuckle as Obi-Wan gasped. Qui-Gon lifted his head, watching Obi-Wan’s face for any sign of pain. He did not want to do anything that hurt the other man, no matter how he longed to be inside Obi-Wan. Almost immediately though, Obi-Wan relaxed, opening eyes and smiling at Qui-Gon, hips shifting further into the touch.

More than ever, Qui-Gon wished he knew how Obi-Wan felt. He had never seen Obi-Wan express happiness so freely, had never known his former apprentice could make the soft sounds that he did as Qui-Gon gently prepared him. It took a long time to stretch Obi-Wan. The smaller Jedi had never been penetrated before and Qui-Gon knew he was larger than what would be comfortable without careful preparation. He shifted two fingers apart inside Obi-Wan, treasuring the moan the other man gave. They were both panting, Obi-Wan pushing into each motion, impatience and pleasure clearly visible on his face. Qui-Gon licked the perspiration from where it shone on Obi-Wan’s skin, his other hand stroking all over Obi-Wan, needing to touch every part of the man.

“Qui-Gon!” Obi-Wan gasped suddenly, eyes lit with desire. Qui-Gon kissed him, aware that neither of them could wait much longer.

He slipped his fingers out of Obi-Wan, kneeling in between Obi-Wan’s thighs. The younger man reached for the salve, hands lacking his usual grace as he gathered enough to touch Qui-Gon with. The feel of Obi-Wan stroking him where he was already hard was almost too much. Qui-Gon moaned, licking at the beads of sweat along Obi-Wan’s neck, kissing the man’s jaw as Obi-Wan unsteadily recapped the vial of salve. It was shatterproof glass and so neither of them paid much mind to it when it rolled to the edge of the bed, falling to the floor with a small clatter.

Qui-Gon slid hands down Obi-Wan’s damp back as the younger man shakily wrapped legs around Qui-Gon’s waist, smiling softly. The jagged edges of the broken bond scraped against their minds but they braved the pain, entangling limbs, Qui-Gon holding the smaller man as he entered him.

He pressed into Obi-Wan, feeling the warmth of the man engulf him, the smaller Jedi gasping. Qui-Gon kissed him, one arm holding himself above Obi-Wan, the other encircling the man. Obi-Wan’s body moved into the embrace, a soft cry emitting from him. His hair looked red against the white sheets, his eyes light, full of life. He was so beautiful. Qui-Gon gasped, pausing to give Obi-Wan time to adjust, shocked at the way it felt to be inside Obi-Wan, so close that their heartbeats seemed a single entity. Obi-Wan was much tighter than he had been against Qui-Gon’s fingers. His body shivered at the intensity of their joining but there was no pain in his eyes. Their mouths met, Obi-Wan relaxing into each kiss and Qui-Gon felt his hips rise instinctively, sliding deeper, meeting the man’s gasps with his own.

It was tight heat, Obi-Wan crying out and Qui-Gon echoing the sound. Pleasure blazed through every nerve in Qui-Gon’s body, he gasped, thrusting as Obi-Wan arched under him. He tried to move slowly at first, afraid still of being too much but Obi-Wan pushed up into each movement, pleading softly for more. The night air played over their skin, the summer warmth of it barely cooling what felt like liquid fire inside. Qui-Gon had never imagined anything could be so good, could bring him so close to sensing Obi-Wan once more.

Something outside himself startled him, and he lifted his head, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. He could taste Obi-Wan in his mouth, his hands slipping slightly on damp skin, but something else was overlaying each sensation. The closeness between them blocked out almost all thought, his hips pushed forward into Obi-Wan’s. The other man gasped, legs tightening further around Qui-Gon’s waist, pleasure washing over them. Qui-Gon thrust deeper into Obi-Wan and felt the flickering movement of the Force as a moan broke loose from the other Jedi.

There was no warning other than that tentative fleeting trace of energy and then suddenly it was as if the floor had dropped away, the cold emptiness inside his mind shattering as the shields the healers had placed fell one by one. The Force surged through him, rippling through the room as a bright flash of light. He could feel the broken edges of the bond reaching, trying to bridge distances even as Obi-Wan arched under him. Qui-Gon ran a hand down Obi-Wan’s spine, skin slick with sweat, holding the man close as their bodies moved. With a cry, he felt the painful awakening of awareness in his mind. Obi-Wan mirrored the sound, his green eyes wide. Their Force presences touched, Obi-Wan shuddered as thought and emotion bled through, the emptiness flooded suddenly with the scent and taste and knowing of the other.

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan’s face in his hands and kissed Obi-Wan deeply, feeling the bond reforming, so bright it nearly broke him. Obi-Wan was holding him, saying his name over and over, his head fallen back against the pillows, his eyes shining. Qui-Gon cupped the back of the man’s head, long auburn hair tangling against his fingers. He brought their foreheads together, breathing in Obi-Wan’s presence, letting it fill his mind, his body alive with the healing power of it. His thrusts were erratic now, feeling close to the edge of everything. He held unto Obi-Wan and brought the man with him as the sensation expanded forth in a rush of ecstasy and light.

* * *

It was morning, the light from outside painting glowing warmth along Obi-Wan’s skin. Qui-Gon watched it travel the man’s body. _His lover_ , he thought dazedly, reaching out to touch where the sunrise fell, leaning to kiss the few freckles low on Obi-Wan’s hip.

With a quiet mumble, Obi-Wan woke, eyelashes fluttering open at the same time the connection between their minds filled with the other man’s unshielded happiness. Qui-Gon drew back, sitting up, the thrum of their shared thoughts echoing through him. The draining cold was gone, his body feeling stronger than it had in months. Obi-Wan blinked, awe visible on his features as the Force resonated with his joy.

“The bond repaired itself?” Obi-Wan whispered, slightly hoarse from sleep, his long hair as tangled as Qui-Gon’s was as he sat up, leaning back against the headboard. There was shyness in Obi-Wan’s voice as he spoke about the bond, his greenish eyes contemplative.

“I believe so,” Qui-Gon answered softly, reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s knee, savoring being able to feel Obi-Wan’s response in the Force, “although it is possible that an entirely new bond formed.”

Obi-Wan nodded, trying to comb his unruly hair with his fingers, his gaze tired but filled with such contentment that Qui-Gon felt as if the room was too small to hold his love for the man. Obi-Wan paused, sensing Qui-Gon’s emotions. The younger man smiled the same small smile from the night before that was both unexpectedly sweet and seductive. Qui-Gon leaned over, kissing the man. Obi-Wan’s mouth opened to his instantly and several blissful moments passed.

After awhile, Qui-Gon sat back, both of them breathless. Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide, the color beautiful, like light dancing on water and leaves. Qui-Gon knew they needed to discuss the bond, and what it would mean when they returned to Coruscant, but he found he didn’t care what the Council thought about the matter. Obi-Wan was in his arms and nothing else felt terribly important. Obi-Wan reached up, stroking a hand through Qui-Gon’s long hair.

“I’m glad that you found me here,” he murmured and Qui-Gon settled back against the headboard next to him, pulling Obi-Wan near.

“So am I,” he whispered.

He felt Obi-Wan move closer to him, resting his head against Qui-Gon’s chest. The Force sang between their minds, both of them reaching for the comfort of the healed bond. It felt too sacred to openly discuss anymore, nor did they have to. Neither of them were shielding and what Obi-Wan felt, he felt as well.

Qui-Gon knew that they would have to speak of it soon, that some shielding between them would be necessary to provide privacy to their thoughts and stability to the bond. But for now, they were content to let the Force flow through them both, Obi-Wan’s naked body draped half over his own.

The sounds of the small town drifted through the window, the sun rising further, filling the room with light. Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan’s hair tenderly, smiling softly as Obi-Wan lay a kiss along the scar left by the Sith. The battle on Naboo seemed far away, as did yesterday when Qui-Gon had woken alone and in pain. The bond shone between them, beautiful and vital, and Qui-Gon found that he could not be afraid now that Obi-Wan was here.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry for the sad beginning, but I think it’s safe to say that it didn’t end sadly. While I tend to be skeptical of the ‘sex is healing’ troupe in fiction, I do admit it made an appearance here. Granted, intimacy of any kind, not just physical, would have probably helped Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s broken bond because their love is intense and forever. 
> 
> I’ve been wanting to write a fix-it fic for ages and put up something a bit more sexy than I normally have online (blushes, hides face) so I guess I was able to do both! 
> 
> This was a great challenge, I hope everyone checks out the other entries that people post to celebrate the 20th anniversary when the master list goes up on quiobi_lover's tumblr ( https://quiobi-lover.tumblr.com/ )! Also if anyone is interested in another quiobi challenge, know that I am running the 3rd Jinnobi Challenge in October ( https://infinitejedilove.tumblr.com/post/183871078798/2019-jinnobi-challenge ).


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